


divine

by novoaa1



Series: the learning curve [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awesome Carol Danvers, Established Relationship, F/F, Light Dom/sub, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov-centric, POV Natasha Romanov, and it makes natasha panic slightly, bit of a character study, but carols just like a ray of sunshine who is being her regular awesome self, cause natasha doesn't understand how regular loving relationships are supposed to work, just kind of a drabble, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novoaa1/pseuds/novoaa1
Summary: "Carol likes to cuddle. Like, a lot.Which is fine, Natasha guesses… if not a bit disconcerting."Or: Carol's the most adorable and loving girlfriend ever. Natasha doesn't quite know what to do about that. A bit of a character study / drabble.





	divine

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】天赐之礼](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20306794) by [R_H_Felidae_Athena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_H_Felidae_Athena/pseuds/R_H_Felidae_Athena)



> ok so i think i'm gonna keep writing for this particular story line with them, maybe smut and feels and other stuff coming up just cause i think they're adorable (also had a few requests to add to the 'trouble with puppies' fic i wrote a little while back)
> 
> anyways
> 
> here it is - just a drabble more than anything that i wrote last night... planning on having more scenes and other cute/smutty/angsty stuff between them as i go along

Carol likes to cuddle. Like, a lot. 

Which is fine, Natasha guesses… if not a bit disconcerting. 

What she means to say is—yes, cuddling is nice, and Natasha _craves_ it. (Not that she’ll ever tell anyone, of course.)

But Natasha also isn’t stupid—she knows damn well that ‘cuddling’ is always code for ‘sex’… at least, where most men and women Natasha had known were concerned. 

(Granted, the majority of them were marks, but still.)

It was the oldest move in the book: the mark asks her to ‘cuddle,’ she acquiesces (because she really doesn’t have another choice), and within five minutes, it’s devolved into a full-on heated make-out session upon the couch, or the bed, or wherever they’ve chosen to partake in this quote-unquote "cuddling.”

(As time passes and Natasha begins to realize that Carol isn’t planning on going away any time soon, she starts to think that maybe she’s just been made to know a lot of sleazy dirtbag men in her life, and that’s what’s making her so on edge.

But, still, that remains to be seen—Natasha hasn’t decided to trust the energetic super-powered embodiment of a Golden Retriever quite yet.)

But, now, after a solid month of being together (like, _together_ together) with Carol, she doesn’t quite know what to think anymore—because when Carol asks her to cuddle, and they curl up together on the couch or in Natasha’s bed, it seems that all she really wants to do is just that: cuddle. 

And, it’s not that they haven’t had sex before—no, they most definitely have. Many times. Over and over. 

And over. 

But anyways. 

It’s confusing, above all else, and Natasha is very rarely confused. 

There’s nothing sexual about the way Carol hugs Natasha tightly in her arms, the way she traces the soft curves of her back, the dimples at the base of her spine—she’s not trying to start anything. 

Even if they’re naked, Natasha straddling Carol in bed, her lips resting upon the delicate slope of Carol’s neck, every inch of their bodies pressed solidly against one another—Carol doesn’t lift her chin and join their lips, doesn’t force her tongue into Natasha’s mouth in some inexplicable attempt to swallow her whole, doesn’t grope and squeeze at the miles of bare flesh beneath her fingertips with a not-so-subtle implication of what exactly she wants to be doing.

Carol doesn’t come on strong like that—she never has, and Natasha isn’t sure whether to be comforted by it or just entirely unsettled. 

She treats Natasha… better than anyone ever has, always asking for consent and stroking at her pale skin and telling her how _beautiful_ she is. 

She doesn’t treat Natasha like a thing to be desired, a mindless doll to be used purely for her own sexual gratification, and honestly, Natasha doesn’t quite know how to feel about that. 

She never lets Natasha touch her until she’s made Natasha come at least twice; she bites and sucks possessively at the skin of Natasha’s breasts to leave bruising marks that will last for days, but doesn’t bat an eye when Natasha jokes with Clint and trains with Steve and geeks out (on occasion) with Bruce down in the labs. 

She’s surprisingly dominant, but not overtly so—there’s a line drawn in the proverbial sand, a line that leaves Natasha positively reeling with confusion and bewilderment and a thousand other things she doesn’t dare to name. 

She loves holding Natasha, loves it when Natasha will curl up on her lap and bury her face in Carol’s neck; she didn’t touch Natasha until they’d agreed upon a safe word, even after Natasha had blinked owlishly at her and questioned the need for one in the first place; she loves to get Natasha small little gifts (even if Natasha is rather tight-lipped about the things that truly make her smile), loves discovering all the things that bring a genuine smile to her face (even if it takes a while) and getting them for her even though Natasha will insist every single time she most certainly doesn’t have to.

She seems to love making _Natasha_ come a hell of a lot more than she does climaxing herself, the awed look on her face as Natasha rides out a powerful orgasm on her fingers unlike anything else. 

She loves holding Natasha down, pinning her wrists above her into the mattress, loves the needy little moans and keening whines Natasha makes beneath her with every teasing touch—but when it’s over, she’ll kiss the reddened marks around Natasha’s wrists, whispering to her that she did so well, that she was so beautiful, that Carol was so _proud_ of her. 

It was… a lot. Almost too much, at times.

And surely enough, it tested Natasha more powerfully than anything ever had before.

It’s a new kind of difficult, letting go again and again under Carol’s gentle ministrations, sinking into the tantalizing security of her warmth on the quiet nights they spend alone, knowing Carol gives tender praise out left and right like candy and forcing herself not to crumble every time she hears it. 

What scares her the most, though, is how she’s slowly becoming attuned to it—how she’s gradually becoming pliant to Carol’s touch, how she allows the slightest of flushes to tinge her cheeks under every whispered praise, how she’s accepting the affection and the unsolicited hugs and the chaste kisses even when she knows damn well she’s never deserved any of it to begin with. 

It’s difficult, because with every gentle word and touch, she feels herself growing weaker—she feels herself getting hesitant, more fragile, _powerless_ in the radiant glow of everything that is Carol Danvers. 

But it never feels like a bad thing when she’s with Carol; rather, it feels like she’s finally letting go, like she’s allowing herself to be seen, like maybe letting herself feel small with Carol isn’t nearly as dangerous as she’d have herself believing—it goes against everything she’s ever known, everything she’s been taught and relentlessly indoctrinated with since before she can remember. 

It’s terrifying, and almost back-breaking at times—but above all else, it’s… well, it’s sacred, she thinks, for lack of a better term. 

It’s almost… divine. 

— —

**Author's Note:**

> as always, feedback is awesome:)
> 
> also here’s the link to my 


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